


Misplaced

by pippinmctaggart



Series: Searching For A Home [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dialogue-Only, M/M, Resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-31
Updated: 2004-10-31
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart/pseuds/pippinmctaggart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom can't find his place in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misplaced

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to _Useless_ , and it won't make any sense unless you've read that one first, I'm afraid.

 

“Uh—hi, Billy. It’s Dom. Well, I s’pose you knew that. I wanted to leave you a message. So you’d know I called. ‘Cos I—aw, fuck, Bills, you know I’m no good at this, but I wanted you to know I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ‘forget it’. Well, I did, but it was supposed to sound like, ‘forget that shite and I’ll try to say it a little clearer’. I didn’t want to—to—I don’t know. Can I talk to you, Bill? Please? Ehm…yeah. Ring me. If—I mean—yeah. Right. Okay, then, I’ll talk to you later.”

 

 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Dom.”

“Billy. You called me back.”

“Of course I did, you silly wee bugger. Let’s talk. Right now, you and me, we’ll talk like we haven’t in a while, okay?”

“Okay, Bills. I’d—I’d like that.”

“Me too, Dom. More than I can tell you.”

“Wish you were here. Be easier if I could go down to the bay with you and sit beside you on the rocks and have you ground me between the sky and the sea. I’m lost, Billy.”

“And I have a compass and a trail of breadcrumbs and a knapsack full of hot tea and biscuits and I’m coming to look for you.”

“Don’t take the piss! Don’t make fun, Bill, this is hard enough—“

“I’m not taking the piss. I’m not, Dom. And you’re not lost, not irrevocably. You’re just…a little misplaced.”

“Yeah. Misplaced. ‘S as good a word as any, I suppose. But how the hell did I get misplaced, Bill? I should be…should be lined up with everyone else, how is it that I’m not?”

“I’m not sure, Dom. I think you didn’t trust that your place lined up with everyone else was really your place to be and you’ve moved from the place where you’re supposed to be to where you’re misplaced.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I confused even myself with that one. I think what I’m trying to say is…you’re not as out of place as you think you are. But if you want to step back into your spot, where you belong, you’re going to have to make the move, Dom. Not wait for your place to come to you, not wait for someone else to drag you into it.”

“Am I waiting for you to drag me into it?”

“I don’t think you were _waiting_ , no. But I think you were hoping.”

“Hoping. So if you can’t drag me into place, if I have to do this myself, then why even offer to help, Bill? Why hold out your hand like that only to snatch it away?”

“Dom—“

“That’s harsh, Billy, really fucking ruthless. God, why don’t you—“

“Dom, shut it! I’m still offering to help, Dom, I’m not taking my hand away. I’ll—bloody hell, this sounds like sentimental tripe, but sod it all. I can’t drag you into your place, Dom, I can’t do that, you have to take that step yourself, but I’ll walk beside you, yeah? I’ll hold your hand tight while you make the move yourself and I won’t let you get misplaced again. Okay, Dom?”

“How, Billy?”

“How what?”

“Bloody buggering fucking _hell_. How everything? How do I make that move? How do you stand by me but not help me? How do I keep you in sight so I don’t get misplaced again? I know what you mean, Billy, but I don’t know how to do any of it. I can’t fucking _do_ it.”

“Dom, don’t hang up, don’t Dom, don’t—“

 

 

“Hello? Dom, is that you?”

“Yeah, Bill, it’s me. Sorry for earlier, yeah?”

“It’s all right. I wish you’d answered your phone, though.”

“Couldn’t. Needed to think for a bit. You said you had an offer for me?”

“What?”

“The other day. You said you were worrying about me and you had an offer for me. What is it? What’s the offer?”

“Dom, I don’t know that this is a good idea now—“

“Why not?”

“Because…because I don’t think you’ll want it. Because I’m afraid you’ll think I’m fucking with you. Or that I don’t mean it, that it’s not sincere.”

“What’s the offer, Bill?”

“Jesus, Dom, it’s not—“

“What’s the fucking offer?”

“Fine. Just promise me you won’t go off on me. Promise that even if you hate the idea and want to tell me to ram it up my arse, you’ll think about it for one day. Just one. Then if you still hate it you’re more than welcome to say so. Promise me that.”

“I promise.”

“Do you mean it?”

“For fuck’s sake, Bill—“

“All right, all right. Sorry. The offer is…well, there’s this part in the play I’m doing—“

“You’re right. I hate it. But I’ll talk to you tomorrow about it.”

“You didn’t even let me finish—“

“That was enough for now. I’ll think about it and call you tomorrow.”

“Dom, don’t be such a—“

“Bye, Billy.”

 

 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Billy.”

“Dom, you bloody fucking selfish _prick_ —“

“I have a question.”

“You promised you’d think about it and you didn’t even let me finish, you just hung up on me—“

“Billy, I have a question.”

“What? What’s your sodding question? How many more times can I do this? Because the answer’s not too many, Dom, I’m just about nearing my limit—“

“What’s the role?”

“…What?”

“That shut you up right quick, didn’t it? What’s the role?”

“It’s…We’re doing Ibsen, _An Enemy of the People_. We—we lost our Billing—they’re recasting this weekend. If you…you’d have to audition.”

“I haven’t read that one.”

“It’s a—a good role. What the fuck is going on here, Dom? I thought you said you hated the idea.”

“I did. Automatically felt like you were…I don’t know. Trying to hand me something. You know, ‘Dom can’t get a job, so Billy takes pity on him and gives him a scrap from his table’.”

“God, Dom, that’s not it, that’s not it at all—“

“I know. I realized that after a few minutes of cursing you out.”

“Is that why my ears were burning last night?”

“I’m surprised they didn’t burst into flames.”

“I can’t give you this part, Dom. There are no guarantees—you’d be going for the job just like anyone else. And you might not get it.”

“I know. But that’s the step, isn’t it? That’s making a move myself, right?”

“Right. You’d be taking the step yourself. But I’d be there no matter what happened.”

“I know you would, Bill.”

“Are you considering it, then?”

“I’m considering. Can I have another day to think? I’m not sure—not sure if this would line me up where I need to be or not. Another day or two?”

“Of course you can, Dom. Just as long as you could be here for the auditions Saturday if that’s what you decide to do.”

“All right. Who did you say the character was?”

“Billing. Not a lead role, but a sizeable one. He’s a journalist of sorts. It _is_ a good role, Dom.”

“I believe you. I’ll call you in a day or two, yeah?”

“Yeah. That would be great, Dom.”

“Okay. Bye, Billy.”

 

 

“Hi, Bills.”

“Hi, Dom. I’m glad you called, I was starting to get worried about you again.”

“Sorry about that. Just had a lot of stuff to…think about, you know?”

“I know. Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Where are you, Dom? It sounds like you’re standing in the middle of the street.”

“Nah, ‘course not. Just out for a walk.”

“Bit of fresh air, then? Wouldn’t catch me going for a walk here, the weather’s shite. Absolutely pishing rain.”

“Yeah. Raining a bit here, too. But you know me, Bills, I’ve always liked the rain.”

“Yeah, I know you. So you thought about a lot of stuff, did you?”

“Yeah, I did. Didn’t get a lot of sleep, though. Did you know it’s remarkably hard to sleep when you’re trying to figure out who you are and who you want to be?”

“I can imagine. And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you figure out who you want to be?”

“A bit. Not entirely. I think that might take a while, you know?”

“That’s probably a good thing. Your record on snap decisions leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Ah, see, now you’re just taking the piss out of me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Dom. Yes, I am. You sound better, mate.”

“I should hope so. Couldn’t get much worse than what I was.”

“Ah, Dom—“

“No, no. ‘S all right. Listen, Bills, I’m getting soaked here—“

“I’ll let you go, call me when you get home—“

“No, that won’t be necessary. If you’d just unlock your front door for me, that’d be grand.”

“…What?”

“I know you’re a very conscientious bloke, but do you always have to lock your front door?”

“Front door…”

“Something wrong, Bills? You sound a bit wobbly. Anyway, I made a decision on the play, and I’m going to give it a shot. It scares the hell out of me, because I don’t know where my head will be at if I fail, but I have to give it a shot. And I think I figured out where my place is, Bills.”

“Your place…”

“Open the sodding door, Bills.”

“Yeah—yeah, coming…”

“Ah, that’s better. ‘S fucking Baltic out there. Okay, you can hang up your phone now, Bill. I think I’ll be able to hear you all right, seeing as how I’m standing right in front of—bloody hell, Bill, ease up on the ribs a bit, yeah? A hug’s nice and all, but I’m strangely fond of oxygen.”

“Dom, why do you fucking do this to me?”

“Shh. I’m sorry, Billy. I’m sorry. I just—once I made up my mind, I kind of couldn’t stop until I sat my arse on the plane. Couldn’t give myself the chance to back out and fuck up all over again. But I figured out where my place is, Bill, and I need just a bit of help getting into it, will you help me, Bills?”

“You know I will, Dom. Tell me. Tell me where your place is.”

“No, don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t you see, Bills? My place is here. _Right here_. Whether I get that role or not, my place is here, if you’ll let me stay. Will you let me, Bills?”

“Will I _let_ —you sodding great fuckwit! I’ve been _asking_ you to! I’ve practically been on my fucking knees begging! I’ve been holding out my hand and waiting while every time you pushed me away—“

“No, no, Bills, don’t, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Dom. Dom—I won’t—I won’t let you get misplaced again. If you are sure this is where you’re supposed to be—“

“Right here. Just me, _right here_.”

“Right here. God, Dom—you’ll stay? Really stay? No more shite motels? No more drunk phone calls at three in the morning asking me for help you wouldn’t let me give? No more running off to L.A. to fucking ‘find yourself’?”

“No, Bills. No more. I swear—no more. I’ve found the place I’m supposed to be, Bills, and it’s with you.”

“With me.”

“Right here, with you.”

“Yes. With me.”

 


End file.
